When he hung up from the last call, Tom turned to him. “She’s probably just driving around somewhere. I’ll see if I can find her. If she comes back, call me on the cell phone.”
Feeling sick inside, Ross nodded. He didn’t accompany Tom to the door. He didn’t say anything, didn’t beg him to please bring her home safe. Tom was probably right. She was just driving around, trying to get her emotions under control. She would come home. She had to, because she loved this town, this house, and these people.
Even if she no longer loved him.
A sense of déjà vu swept over Maggie as she realized that she was following the same route she’d taken when she fled a year ago—the highway that led away from Bethlehem and Ross. That night the lanes had been coated with ice and snow, and driving had been treacherous. Tonight the road was clear, the sky was filled with brilliant stars, and the only treachery lay behind her.
Both nights she’d wanted nothing more than to get away from him … and nothing more than to run back to him. But how could she go back? How could she, when the mere thought of him with Jessica left her drowning under fresh waves of pain?
But how could she leave him when her heart, her future—her very life—lay with him?
Oh, God, she wished she were dead.
You don’t mean that, Maggie.
The words were as clear, as real, as if they’d been spoken aloud, and they were full of conviction. She wished she shared that conviction. All she was sure of just then was that she couldn’t bear this pain. She couldn’t live with Ross or without him—couldn’t forgive him and couldn’t forget him.
Up ahead, the road widened, and a narrow lane forked off to the right. She remembered the place from her drive here with Ross, not from last year. That night she’d been too panicked to make note of where her accident had begun. She’d been afraid that she was going to die and convinced that Ross would be glad.
He wouldn’t have been. She knew that now.
Suddenly her headlights illuminated a figure on the side of the road—a woman wearing a heavy parka over a skirt that reached to her ankles. Her hair was tucked under a knit hat, and a scarf was wrapped around her neck, obscuring much of her face. Even so, Maggie recognized her. She moved her foot to the brake pedal and eased onto the shoulder, bringing the car to a stop right in front of the woman.
Noelle opened the passenger door and bent to look inside. “Hi. It’s a little cold out here. Can I come in?”
“Of course. What are you doing here? Did you have an accident?”
Noelle settled in the seat, rubbed her mittened hands together, then sighed. “The heat feels wonderful.”
“What were you doing standing at the side of the road?”
“Waiting for you—and hoping that you wouldn’t come along.”
“Waiting for—” Maggie broke off. Clearly the woman had been out in the cold too long. “Where’s your car?”
“I don’t have one.”
“Then how did you get here?”
“I think the more important question is how you got here.” Noelle tugged off her mittens, searched through her pockets, then came up with a plastic-wrapped pack of tissues. “You look like you could use one.”
Aware that she must look the very picture of distraught, Maggie took a tissue, dabbed at her eyes, and blew her nose. Then she settled her gaze on the other woman. “Why are you out here?”
“I told you. I was waiting for you.”
“That’s not possible. No one knew I was coming this way. I didn’t even know.”
Noelle shrugged. “I’m here, aren’t I? Though I wish you weren’t. I wish you were home unwrapping Christmas gifts with the husband you love more than anything in the world.”
Maggie tried to combat the new tears that threatened with a scowl. “What do you know about that?”
“I know you love him and he loves you. I know that he hurt you deeply and that he regrets it more than words can possibly express.”
Maggie was surprised, startled—and angry. “You know what he did?”
Noelle nodded.
“How? Did you have an affair with him too?”
“Oh, heavens, no. No, Jessica was the only one, Maggie. The only one ever.”
Ross had said the same thing back at the house, but she had doubted him. Why did it sound more believable coming from this woman she hardly knew?
And how did this woman know?
She folded her arms over her chest and stubbornly stared ahead. “I’m not going to forgive him.” From the corner of her eye she saw Noelle mimic the position.
“Oh, I wouldn’t either. The man made a mistake. Now he’s got to pay for it for the rest of his life.”
“A mistake? A mistake is when you add a check in your register instead of subtracting it. It’s when you buy regular coffee when you really wanted decaf. He was unfaithful to me! He dishonored our marriage! And he used my best friend to do it!”
Mildly, Noelle repeated, “Your best friend. You’ve been saying that a lot this evening. But, you know, Maggie, it occurs to me that a woman who would have an affair with your husband isn’t really very much of a friend at all.”
She wanted to argue the point, but how could she? Instead, she applied it in the opposite direction. “And a husband who would have an affair with anyone isn’t much of a husband. He’s certainly not worth keeping, and he sure as hell isn’t deserving of forgiveness.”
“What was he unfaithful to, Maggie? What marriage did he dishonor? There was nothing between you two but a piece of paper that you had both decided to do away with. It was all over but the formalities. Yes, the affair was wrong, but for all practical purposes, you’d already given up your claim on him. It was just a matter of time—very little time—before he would have been free to pursue a relationship with any other woman.”
“Then he should have waited. There are no ‘buts.’ The affair was wrong. Period.” Maggie made an impatient gesture. “I don’t know why I’m having this discussion with you. I don’t even know you. Why are you so interested?”
“Because I was here last year when this all started.”
“Here—in Bethlehem?”
“Here.” Noelle gestured to the area around them. “With you.”
“I don’t …” The denial trailed off as Maggie recalled that night. All the tears, the hurt, the anger—just like tonight. The fear when the truck began skidding out of control. The searing pain as it rolled down the mountainside. The sweet fragrance of the frigid night air as it filtered through the broken windows to surround her broken body. The realization that she was going to—
“Yes, you thought you were dying.” Noelle’s voice was as gentle as her touch on Maggie’s arm. “I was with you in the truck. I stayed with you until help came, until I was certain you would be all right.”
Maggie looked off to the ravine on her left. Though darkness hid it now, as then, she remembered it—the steep walls, the boulders, the trees. Getting down there required effort. It wasn’t a walk in the park. “You live nearby?”
“No.”
“You were driving past?”
“I don’t have a car, remember?”
“Did you come with the paramedics?”
“No.”
“Then … I don’t understand.”
“I was sent there to help you—to stay with you until you no longer needed me.”
Maggie stared off into the darkness, traveling back a year in time. When the truck came to a stop, she’d slumped in the driver’s seat, the crumpled metal holding her limp body upright. The headlights had shone at odd angles, and the windshield wipers had continued to sweep back and forth. The pain, so intense in the seconds of the crash, had eased to a distant throb as her life slipped away, and the voice had been distant too—
The voice. She’d been alone in the truck, but someone had spoken to her, comforted her. Hold on, Maggie. Help is on the way. You’re going to be all right. Everything’s going to be all right. Soft words in a soft
er voice offering hope that she had desperately clung to.
She twisted to look at Noelle, who shrugged. “I told you the truth. Help did come, and you are all right.”
Maggie felt light-headed, the way she did when one of the dizzy spells was about to hit. Maybe that explained all this—it was simply some bizarre hallucination coming from her damaged brain. But the woman looked real. Her hand on Maggie’s arm had certainly felt real. She even smelled real—of cinnamon and pine and fresh, cold air.
“What are you saying?” Maggie demanded. “That you’re some kind of guardian angel? My guardian angel?”
Noelle merely smiled, a sweet, simple gesture that somehow eased a small bit of the ache around Maggie’s heart. Fighting against it—wanting the anger that accompanied the pain—she scowled. “I don’t believe in angels.”
“I bet you don’t believe in miracles either, even though you got one of your very own last year.”
“So I lived. It was a medical miracle, nothing else.”
Noelle didn’t look at all convinced—or offended—by her scornful words. “Last Christmas you received the miracle of life. This Christmas you received a miracle as precious—the gift of love. Maggie, how can you even consider turning your back on it?”
The ache in Maggie’s chest intensified, and she had to close her eyes to stop the tears that burned. “He lied to me,” she whispered. “He betrayed me. How could I even consider believing now that he loves me?”
“You’re right. He did lie to you. He did betray you. But he didn’t do it to hurt you. He was hurting himself, Maggie. He was lonely and confused. His marriage was ending. The girl who had loved him with all the intensity of her young heart had become a woman who couldn’t bear his touch. You resented everything that took him away from you, and yet, when he was with you, you resented him. Do you remember that you didn’t even share a bedroom?”
Maggie stared out ahead, but it wasn’t the night-dark mountain she was seeing. Instead, her vision focused on a scene from long ago—another argument, another round of insults, hurtful words, scathing attacks. She was going to bed, she’d announced, and she didn’t want to be disturbed, so Ross could use a guest room that night. And he did—that night, and every night that followed. The anger had gone away, the insults had been forgotten, but he had continued to sleep down the hall. He’d been waiting for her to invite him back into their room. She’d known it, and yet pride had kept her silent. And so she’d slept in her lonely bed, and he’d slept in his.
Until Jessica joined him.
A thin, bitter smile touched her lips. She’d thought Jessica was her best friend, but it turned out she’d never really known the woman at all. She had never known Jessica was the type to be unfaithful to her husband. She’d never dreamed she was the type to betray her closest friend.
She’d never, ever in her wildest dreams imagined that Jessica was Ross’s type.
“She’s not his type,” Noelle chided. “But she was all the things you weren’t. Warm. Friendly. Receptive. Willing to touch him. Eager to be touched by him. She was available, Maggie. You hadn’t been available to him in a very long time.”
The truth in those words made Maggie’s voice defensive. “You’re saying this is my fault.”
“No, not at all. It was Ross’s and Jessica’s decision to have an affair. Only Ross and Jessica could have said no. They made the wrong choices, and they’ve had to live with the consequences.” Noelle sighed, then drew a deep breath. “What I’m saying, Maggie, is that Ross was in a difficult place then. He was unhappy and hungry for affection. You know what that’s like.”
She did. Many were the times she’d been tempted to take drastic action to ease her loneliness—but she’d never gone through with it. And she’d never been tempted by anyone but Ross.
“I understand what you’re saying,” she said stiffly. “I understand loneliness and bad choices and mistakes. God knows, I’ve made plenty of my own. In my head I understand all of that, but in my heart—”
“In your heart you know that he’s hurt you more than anyone else ever could. But you also know that he loves you more than anyone else ever will. You know how deeply he regrets it, how terribly he’s suffered for it. And you know he would do anything in his power to keep you safe and healthy and happy.”
“Anything except be faithful.” Maggie said the words to remind herself, but she knew in some small, inviolable place that they weren’t true. He was a different man. She was a different woman. They’d learned the hard way the things to treasure in life.
“You have two choices, Maggie. You can forgive him and spend the rest of your life with him, happy and in love. Or you can withhold forgiveness and live the rest of your life feeling much like you do right now. You should know from your mother’s experience that pride is a poor companion. And you should know from your own experience that love is worth almost any sacrifice, including pride.”
Maggie leaned forward, resting her head on the steering wheel, hiding her face. “I don’t know how to forgive him,” she whispered. “It hurts too much.”
“Do you love him?”
“Yes, but—”
“There are no buts. Either you love him or you don’t. Period. Do you?”
“Yes.” She whispered the word soundlessly the first time, then repeated it with more conviction. “Yes. I do.”
“Then go home. Tell him. Work this out with him.”
Maggie felt a tender touch on her hair, a mother-soothing-child stroke. “You lost him once over this,” Noelle said softly, “and you almost lost yourself. Don’t let it happen again, Maggie. Go to Ross. Go home.”
Go home. It was good advice. That was where she wanted to be—where she wanted to stay. Home. With Ross. Forever.
The knock on the driver’s window startled Maggie, making her jerk upright. A sheriff’s deputy stood next to the car, bent low so he could see through the glass. In the rearview mirror she saw his patrol car, the red and blue lights flashing. As her heart rate slowed to normal, she lowered the window and shivered at the sudden cold.
“Mrs. McKinney, are you all right?” the young man asked.
“Yes, I’m fine.” And with surprise she realized it wasn’t a total lie. She wasn’t fine, but she felt better. She knew she was going to survive this—she and Ross together. Intact. In love. Happy.
“Your husband’s awfully worried about you, ma’am. Can I give you a ride, or are you okay to drive back into town?”
“I’m okay, really. I—I just needed some time.” She managed a smile. “I’m going home now.”
“I’ll follow you. Just to make sure you get there all right.”
She nodded and watched him walk back to his car before shifting her gaze to the sky. The stars were unusually brilliant tonight. Considering the night, it was fitting.
She rolled up the window, then glanced toward Noelle.
The seat was empty. She was alone in the car.
She looked ahead and off to the sides, then twisted around to look behind her. There was no sign of the other woman—and no way she could have gotten out of the car without Maggie hearing her.
So where was she? Real people didn’t simply disappear.
But such a feat would be child’s play to an angel.
Slowly she smiled. Maybe it was the night or those incredible stars up above. Maybe it was nothing more than her battered heart needing to believe. But this beautiful Christmas Eve, outside a town called Bethlehem, an angel seemed a perfectly reasonable explanation.
With one last glance around, she backed the car onto the side road, then headed back into the valley.
Back home to Ross.
• • •
He sat on the stairs in the silent house, his arms resting on his knees, his head bent. He didn’t know how much time had passed. All he knew was that his worst fears had come to pass and there was nothing—nothing—he could do but sit and wait, wearily twisting the worn band on his finger.
When the front
door opened, he didn’t look up. Tom must have become better acquainted with Bethlehem tonight than he’d ever wanted to. No doubt he was giving up the search. It was pointless anyway. No one, not even Tom, could make Maggie come back. No one could make right all the things he’d put wrong.
The door closed, and footsteps moved across the floor, coming slowly into his line of sight. Booted feet, small feet. He jerked his gaze upward, and the ring slipped from his index finger, fell to the floor, and rolled to a stop between the boots. Maggie bent, picked it up, examined it closely, then closed her fingers around it.
He had to try several times to make his voice work, and even then the words were hoarse and thick. “Forget something?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I did.” She disappeared into the living room, then returned with a small package. Kneeling a few steps below him, she held it out, and slowly, without touching her, he took it. “Open it.”
It was small, flat, wrapped in gold foil paper and decorated with a gold mesh bow she’d tied herself. He opened the package to find a Christmas ornament—a wreath with two angels side by side, kissing. He touched it lightly, then glanced at Maggie. Her face was puffy, her eyes red, but her mouth curved in the beginning of a smile, and her expression was expectant.
“Turn it over.”
He did. Written on the back was a brief message: This time forever. “Your promise,” he whispered.
“You asked me for a promise and I made it. Now I’m going to keep it.”
“But you didn’t know—”
“I knew the important things. I knew that I loved you. I knew that you loved me. That’s what matters.”
His hand reached for her of its own accord. Deliberately he pulled it back. “What I did matters.”
“Yes … but it can be dealt with. What’s important is what you do now, what you do in the future.” She became sweetly serious. “We were different people a year ago, Ross, in a different place. We can’t let what we did then ruin the future we can have now. What we can do is ensure that it never happens again. We won’t forget what’s important. We’ll make it good and make it last.” She gestured toward the wreath. “My promise.”
Some Enchanted Season Page 29